


Can I Have a Ride?

by hannahetesta



Category: Charlie Bartlett (2007)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4235649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahetesta/pseuds/hannahetesta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Charlie/OC drabble. She has to ride past the prison in order to get to the public library, and one Saturday she meets someone she didn't expect to see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can I Have a Ride?

It was the only road that went from her house to downtown. She dreaded the ride, even with the knowledge that she'd spend a couple of hours in the public library. She always wished they'd put in another road, that someone would build another path.

It never happened, and every weekend she found herself riding the dirt road past the town prison.

She bites her lip, turning onto Centerpoint Road. It's five minutes on her bike to get to the end, so she keeps her eyes ahead on the clouds, holding her breath as she pedals. It's silent as it always is, and she hesitates to turn her head to see what lays beyond the fence topped with barbed wire.

Something seems off in her peripheral vision, and she sees that there's a car in front of the gate. No, not a car - a limo. There aren't many limos in town, and she only knows of one person who owns one.

But what is he doing here?

It could easily be his mother, she reasons. That's enough to make her pull the brake and stop in front of the driver's window. She hesitantly taps on the glass, and he rolls it down.

"Can I help you?"

"Hello…sir." She finds it odd addressing him as such, but continues talking. "I was wondering if…if Charlie Bartlett is here?"

"Mister Bartlett is busy at the moment, miss. I suggest you continue on your way."

"Oh. Well, alright." He must be visiting someone…his father, perhaps? Does he even have a father? "Thank you."

The sound of another window rolling down draws her attention to her right. Charlie's head pops out, a bright smile on his face. "Hey!" he says. "You're from school, right?"

She nods and tells him her name. "We're in English together."

"Right, you sit behind me, don't you?"

She nods again.

"You wrote that really nice story. The one about camping? It had a really nice description of a meadow, I remember." He gives her a thumbs-up. "Great job."

"Thank you." She finds it odd that he'd remember something like that, but shrugs it off. "Are you visiting someone?"

"No, we blew a flat and my mom's gone in to ask for help."

She doesn't need to look at the tires to know he's lying. "If you say so."

"We'll be fine."

"Right. I'll see you in school on Monday." She gives him a suspicious glance before mounting her bike again.

She doesn't make it five yards when she hears her name being called. She brakes and turn around, and there's Charlie jogging toward her.

"If you need to call a tow truck, there's probably a phone inside," she says.

He takes a few shallow breaths before sighing. "Can I have a ride?"

She feels her eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"Could you please give me a ride?"

"You have a limo," she points out.

"Not as great as it looks." He shrugs. "Plus I need a ride into town."

"For?"

"Whatever you're going for." He unceremoniously stands behind her, his hands on her shoulders and his feet on the back dropouts. He starts to hum to himself, waiting for her to go.

"Charlie Bartlett, I…"

"…am going to town and I'm coming with." He smiles, and she shakes her head, not having the energy - or the words - to tell him to get off.

***

"So how often do you come here?" They've been at the library for ten minutes, and she's hunting for a few new books to read. Charlie's trailing behind her, seemingly much more interested in watching her than in the shelves.

"At least once a week. It has a much bigger selection than the one at school." She stops, looking at the books in front of her. She quickly scans the call numbers. "I have to have at least three books out. Sort of a weird quirk I have, I guess."

"Why would someone need to read that much?"

"Um…because it's fun." She rolls her eyes. "Most of us don't have a pharmacy in the boy's bathroom to occupy our time."

"That doesn't really answer my question." He saunters around the corner, disappearing from sight. She doesn't think much of it, selecting one of the books in front of her. The space behind it is empty, and there's a beautiful green eye looking right at her. She jumps back.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Looking at you from a different perspective. That alright?"

"Why would you need to do that?"

He shrugs. "Just trying to figure you out."

"Why?" She finds herself getting annoyed.

"It's what I do."

"Maybe I don't want you to." She grabs another book and walks away.

"Why not?"

"Because, Charlie, I would rather you keep your nosy little face to yourself."

He chuckles. "Nosy? Is that any way to talk to a friend?"

"You hardly talk to me at school." Her voice is louder now, and she's aware of several pairs of eyes on them, but she can't bring herself to care. "And suddenly you think you're my friend? Just because you can't admit that you were visiting someone in prison?"

He's at a loss for words, and as soon as the words reach her ears, she wishes she could take them back. She hastily checks out her books, leading him outside to the bench on the sidewalk.

"I…I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "You're right, you know."

"What?"

"My dad. He's the one my mom was…" He pauses. "I can never go in there and see him. I hate the waiting, and today I needed to get out. I felt like I couldn't breathe."

"That's why you wanted to come with me?"

"Yes. I figured anything was better than thinking about…things."

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "You know, Charlie…it's great what you do for everyone. But…have you ever thought that maybe you would need someone to listen to you?"

"My problems aren't that important. No one wants to know that Charlie Bartlett's just as screwed up as everyone else."

"I do."

He looks at her, cracking a smile, and she finds herself returning it.


End file.
